Best Friends
by KnightOfNevermore
Summary: From the hellish lows and the addicting highs, Claire's had an interesting life, one that can be seen through the many friends she made and lost throughout the years. One in particular, makes his mark.


1982

Her name was Molly.

She had two green buttons that Mom had sewed on again and again Chris claimed, because apparently I liked to chew on them.

At least I wasn't the one who sucked my thumb until I was nine.

Molly couldn't fly.

I found this out on our Trip to visit grandmamma in the fall.

I cried for three days straight.

I was much more careful with windows and my new dolly Loonette the next trip around.

* * *

1985

Maria had big black eyes and big black hair.

She was two years older than me.

She spoke Spanish.

We were never really that close.

Not that a six-year-old can really tell these things.

* * *

1987

My first true best friend was Lucy.

My first true enemy was Lucy.

She was a social-climbing bitch.

An eight-year-old social climbing bitch.

* * *

1990

Stacey was a great friend.

But it's hard to be friends with a girl who has just lost everything in the span of a day.

Loonette returned to her place by my side yet again.

Through foster home after foster home.

* * *

1993

High school.

I had learned through out the years.

So I chose wisely.

Victoria was my new best friend.

The quiet one at the back of the class, with the overly large goofy glasses and butterfly clips on her black braids.

She didn't care that my parents were dead, my relatives didn't want me, and that I lived with my eighteen-year-old brother who had a buzz cut and served in the air force.

She just wanted a friend.

* * *

1996

Graduation was full of tears and promises to keep in contact with all the friends I had gained.

My new roommate had a leather jacket and was wickedly good at darts.

Her name was Shayne.

I could tell that we were going to get along just fine.

* * *

1998

Surrounded by burning buildings and the walking dead I found myself missing Molly.

I wish that I had disappeared along the road, just like her, and never reached that god-forsaken city.

But then I never would have met my new best friend.

He was red head.

Or blond.

Depended on the light.

Same with his eyes, sometimes blue, other times, a nice gray.

A cool stormy gray.

His name was Leon.

I liked him a lot.

* * *

2002

It's hard to make friends when you constantly picture in your mind what they would look like lurching after you, rotted flesh falling from their face and moaning in search of food.

It also didn't help that trouble seemed to follow me.

Everywhere.

But Leon was still there.

He was always there.

A call once a month, a visit maybe twice a year.

It was enough for him to be my friend.

To be my best friend.

* * *

2004

It was odd.

Being back there again.

Seeing those faces again.

Ashy gray with flesh falling from their cheeks.

That time all I have is an umbrella.

An umbrella.

And Leon, of course.

When were we ever apart?

* * *

2007

I've lost another friend.

Another best friend.

I have many now.

But I haven't just lost a best friend.

I've lost a sister.

It was like losing my parents all over again.

I hate funerals.

Especially when it rained.

I hate seeing him cry.

He can't stop.

There's really no point in trying to.

He always had to be the strong one.

Now I have to be there for him.

Shitty sister I am.

...I never properly thanked Leon for holding me until I stopped sobbing.

* * *

2008

I want more.

I always have.

At first I had only wanted a friend.

A best friend.

I had many through my days.

And then I had him.

And now I want more.

More than a best friend.

I want so much, but I fear rejection more.

Rebecca is a steadfast best friend.

But nothing is like his embrace.

* * *

2010

I was crying.

He was crying.

Who wasn't crying?

She had returned. My sister had returned.

Alive, a little worse for wear, but breathing.

Broken, but not shattered.

It was my sister who convinced Leon to give me a ride home.

A car was not the only thing we shared that night.

The next morning, he was still there.

I may have lost a best friend, but I gained something equally vital.

Something better than any Molly, Maria, Lucy, Stacey, Victoria or Joan combined could ever be.

I gained a best-friend who could drive (who needed to fly anyways?), who spoke a language that only the two of us could ever know (one where no words were needed, only the exchange of a glance), who would never use me or abuse me (those times where I have been used a human shield from my over protective brother just doesn't count), who not only accepted my past but helped heal it too (although some memories can never be erased, they can always be replaced), who didn't need a cool motorcycle or a quick hand at darts to impress me (although his talent at darts is not to be challenged), one who would walk the ends of the earth with me, killing all the zombie bastards we could along the way and split of pint of Cherry Garcia with me when we reached the end.

He was far from perfect, with his stupid ass haircut and his shitty one-liners, but I've learned from many years of experience: all friends come with flaws, you just got to love them for it all the more.


End file.
